The Sea Witch's Journey
by Cookies Blizzards and Sunsets
Summary: 5 year old Lena Andromeda Lillian Adriana Potter is sick of her so called relatives. She decides to leave her abusive "home", not knowing it will lead to the best and worst years of her life. Good Tom Riddle. Bad Dumbledore, Bad Voldemort.


**Hey I just had this huge idea and needed to post it pronto! I've been reading a lot of fem-harry fics lately and this came to mind! Some of the thoughts/ideas are from other fics so I apologize for an accidental plagiarism!**

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Lena POV:

Dark… That's the first thing I think when I wake up. I shouldn't be surprised, I think with a sigh, the cupboard under the stairs is as dark as normal, the sound of spiders tapping across the bottom part of the stairs the only thing disturbing the oddly silent morning.

I sit up slowly careful of my bruised wrist and put my ear up to the door. Nothing… I sigh relieved, I have some time to relax before the day starts. Leaning back against the wall I start counting the spiders to keep my mind off of the cramped space, thinking of why I had to end up in such a place. As far back as I can remember I've been here cleaning, cooking, surviving; but not living. My fingers tap on my legs in boredom, all I want is a family but the Dursley's are about as far away from one as they could get. _Uncle_ Vernon's cures for my freakishness, _Aunt_ Petunia's open words of hatred towards me and my mom, and Dudley spoiled and dumb as a rock; no that's an insult to rocks.

Perhaps such thoughts are too mature for a five year old, but it was either grow up or die. Just as I think I might be left alone today there's a strong rap on the door and Petunia's sharp horse voice screeches

"Up! Get up girl! You're needed in the kitchen and your chores! Hurry Up!"

I groan softly and mutter under my breath "My name is Lena, but obviously you don't care" that thought pulls me up short. If I hate it here and they hate me, then why am I still here? A plan starts to form in my head of escape, beautiful freedom, but Petunia's screeching in the kitchen interrupts my fantasy and I make my way to the kitchen, mindful of my hand.

I enter the kitchen to see Dudley scarfing down food like he'll never see it again; normal. I turn to Petunia and put on my best innocent face

"What would you like me to do Aunt Petunia" I ask sweetly

She turns to me and narrows her eyes but replies sternly

"Watch the eggs, I need to go get ready for Dudley's parent meeting, don't screw it up or it's the cupboard for a week."

She gives me a loathing glare and hurries out of the kitchen and upstairs. Dudley snickers at the threat, but I don't even bother to look at him; too used to his teasing by now. As I flip the eggs I quick sneak another one onto the pan for myself, knowing that I probably won't be eating today. Petunia rushes back in just as I serve the eggs on the table, hiding mine in a dirty looking napkin.

"Good, now Dudley and I have to leave. Vernon is at work, you are free to roam the house but only this floor, or else" she stares me down, and I see the inward debate in her eyes about leaving me here by myself or being late and calling Ms. Figg. I shudder at that thought.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia, I will stay on this floor, thank you" I reply knowing what she wants to hear.

"If one thing is out of place when we get back, you'll have your uncle to deal with" she yells as she ushers Dudley out the door and the door slams with a sort of finality. Finally, I think as I rush to the kitchen and scarf down the egg, thinking of things to bring with me. Food, clothes, a little cash. I grab some food that won't spoil, a small duffle bag out of Dudley's second bedroom that he thought was too girly. I snort, he just didn't want to have anything to do with physical activity unless it involved beating someone up. I grab a black coat that's way too small for Dudley, that's still a little big, some of his old boots, fifty dollars from Vernon's "secret stash" under his mattress, an old brush of Petunias, some clothes from the cupboard, my books from the library, and my one picture of my parents that I found cleaning the attic one day.

I stand by the back door, grasping my necklace, take a deep breath and take a final look at the terrible place, full of bad memories, I run, not once looking back.


End file.
